Treading Water
by LemonFerret
Summary: Draco Malfoy's life is falling apart. Forced to receive the Dark Mark, pressured by his parents to honor the family, Draco is slowly self-destructing. And in a world as cruel as this, will anyone care enough to save him? Contains anorexia/bulimia.
1. Prologue

A/N – **Warning**: this story may contain: eating disorders, self harm/cutting, abuse, drugs, and depression.

This is my first real story involving Draco, so I'll try to keep him as in-character as I can. :) Please review and tell me what you like and what you don't. I hope you enjoy the story.

**Treading Water**:Prologue

Draco Malfoy stared into his own eyes, grey boring into grey, his breath fogging the edges of the mirror.

After a few seconds his gaze drifted down, traveling past the pale skin of his bare chest and coming to a stop at the purplish bruise that colored his stomach. Bile rose up in his throat, and he swallowed, ignoring it, remembering.

"_Draco, your sixteenth birthday is almost upon us. In only two weeks, you will be an adult in the eyes of the Dark Lord" Aunt Bellatrix crooned, stroking Draco's silky hair. Draco shivered. He hated it when his Aunt touched him so casually. _

"_Leave him be, Bella!" his mother snapped, slapping her sister's hand away from her son. Draco was grateful. _

"_Now, now, Narcissa, no need to get too snappy with dear Bellatrix" Lucius drawled, sneering. "For once, her words have merit." Draco felt his stomach squirm as his father turned to look at him, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Draco…you will honor the Malfoy family." _

No, _Draco thought, _why? I don't want this, I don't want this… _But of course he responded in the affirmative, in the way he had been taught to respond as a good Pureblood son. "… Yes, father." But it came just a second too late. "Draco, you hesitate?" Lucius asked, his fair brows furrowing in surprised anger. He leaned forward in his chair, the sleeve of the Azkaban shirt he wore riding up just enough for Draco to see the dark tattoo that marred his skin. _

"_I-I'm sorry, father," Draco stuttered, slight panic creeping into his words. He looked imploringly at his father. "I want to honor this family! It's just, I d-don't…I'm not sure I'm…ready for this." _

_Draco didn't see him move. All he knew was that one moment Lucius was reclining in his throne-like chair, and the next, he was barely an inch away, his arm pulling back and landing squarely on Draco's stomach. Narcissa yelled. Bellatrix cackled. Draco gasped and fell back, pain exploding in his stomach. He landed and looked startledly up at his father. He hadn't been struck since his pre-Hogwarts days. _

_His father stood over him, his face contorted in anger. "Do you know how much I have sacrificed for this family? How much I have endured? I will NOT have my son destroy all that!" And then, bending nearer: "You WILL recieve the dark mark, Draco. You WILL honor this family!" _

_And thought they were never articulated, all those present understood the two implied words. "_Or else."

Draco sighed, swallowing his fear. There were still eight days until his birthday, he still had time… and whatever happened, it would only be two months until he returned to Hogwarts. He shook his head; he would worry about this later. It was almost time for dinner.

With one last glance at his bruised stomach, Draco pulled on a shirt, doing up the buttons and finishing it off with an emerald green tie. Narcissa insisted on dinner always being a formal affair, even with father in Azkaban.

_Well, _Draco thought, _it's not as if he'll stay away for long. _With all his connections in the Ministry and the Death Eater ranks, his father was usually able to escape Azkaban for the day every few weeks, which was normally something Draco would be pleased about. But with his impending initiation as a Death Eater, and the painful and very visible reminder of the feeling of a fist meeting his body…

Draco took one last look in the mirror, ran a hand through his hair, straightened his tie, and left his room.


	2. Chapter 1

**Treading Water: **Chapter 1

Draco made his way swiftly down the large, sweeping staircases that lead from the upper floors to the dining room, where his mother waited. His pale hand slid easily down the polished banister, and he was reminded briefly of the time he had climbed on to the banister as a child and slid all the way down. His mother had been terrified, but he had enjoyed it. It had felt like flying.

After the rather long trek from his room to the ground floor, Draco made his way into the dining room. His mother sat, her back almost unnaturally straight, with her hands folded in front of her, to the immediate right of the empty seat at the head of the table – a seat to which she would glance wistfully at every few minutes. _This is going to be uncomfortable_, Draco thought. He cleared his throat just enough to make his attention known. The effect was immediate. Narcissa looked up, wide-eyed, from her reverie. "Draco, dear, take a seat" she simpered, standing to usher her son to his chair.

"Mother, I can seat myself, you know" he said, slightly bemused.

Narcissa turned to him, frowning. Suddenly, her face cleared and she reached to place her hands on either side of Draco's face. "Draco, dear, " she said softly, "how is your stomach?" Draco blanched, and looked to the side. _Merlin, I don't want to talk about this. _"I'm fine, mother" he mumbled.

Just then, a house elf appeared, laden with platters. _Perfect timing! _Draco thought, relieved. "Come on, mother, I'm starving. Let's eat." Narcissa returned to her seat, albeit rather reluctantly.

After his mother had ordered the elf away, Draco lifted the lid off of the solid silver platter and heaped a large helping of roast beef and mashed potatoes onto his plate. Though it certainly didn't show, Draco ate just as much as any teenage boy. His mother looked on with an affectionate mixture of disgust and amusement as her son proceeded to eat enough to feed a starving hippogriff. "Draco, dear," she observed, "if you feel you must eat your weight in dinner, at least try to eat slower – you'll give yourself heartburn."

Draco looked up, his cheeks comically stuffed with bread. "M'm fine, muffer, M'm jus 'ungry!" He swallowed, and continued in a more sullen tone. "Not to mention that Zabini, Nott and Parkinson will be here in half an hour, since you took the liberty of inviting them."

"Oh Draco, Pansy's a very nice girl, you should spend more time with her!" Narcissa leaned forward conspiratorially, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And I'm _sure _she's interested in you, sweetie."

A shudder of pure revulsion ran through Draco. "Mother, she looks like a pig."

"Draco!"

"And if you wanted to hook me up with Parkinson, why on earth would you invite Zabini and Nott along?" he moaned.

Narcissa stiffened, smoothing the napkin on her lap. "Now Draco, you know that Blaise and Theodore's fathers are very important men –"

_Death Eaters_, Draco realized.

"- and it would make me incredible happy to see you start making the connections that will be so vital to your success as an adult."

"Are Blaise and Theodore being initiated as well, mother?" Draco whispered.

Narcissa dropped her fork.

But before anything could be said, a loud crack sounded in the room. Bellatrix Lestrange apparated into the room, in all her dark glory. She shook her head as if to clear it and turned to the two sitting at the table. "Evening, Cissy" she cackled.

"It's generally considered rude, Bella," Narcissa said stiffly, "to Apparate uninvited into someone else's home."

"Oh, but I know you love me here, Cissy," Bellatrix said, smiling teasingly, "you'd never turn _me _out."

As they continued to bicker, Draco felt his appetite suddenly disappear. He'd always been extremely uncomfortable around his aunt. _And I hate it that she always touches me. Creepy._ He placed down his fork and knife.

This small movement brought Bellatrix's attention to her nephew. "Well, if it isn't little _Draco…_" The way she said his name sent shivers down his spine. Draco shifted uncomfortably, wary.

"You leave him alone, Bella" Narcissa ordered, standing. "I'll order the house elves to prepare some dinner, Bella, thought it would have been much easier if we'd known you were coming. You could have eaten with us." And with that, she swept from the room.

As soon as her sister left, Bellatrix sauntered over to where Draco still sat. "Little _Draco_…" she crooned.

"What do you want?" Draco snapped, trying to sound irritated.

"Touchy, aren't we?" She continued in her approach, unperturbed by his apparent discomfort. When she finally reached his chair, she circled around so that she was behind him. Draco could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, could feel goosebumps running down his spine at his aunt's proximity. _I can't see her. What in Merlin's name is she doing?_

Suddenly, Draco felt boney hands resting at the base of his neck. He jumped in his seat and made to turn around, but the hands tightened their grip, keeping him still. All of a sudden his aunt's breath was in his ear, making his skin crawl.

"Dear _Draco_," she crooned, "are you _excited_ to receive the Dark Mark?" The hands on his shoulders started moving then, slowly trailing sickeningly down his chest. His breathing sped up, his heart pumping twice as fast as normal. "Do you feel _honored_, Draco? You should," she giggled, "the Dark Lord does not accept just anyone…"

_What's happening? _Draco was terrified. "Get-get off me –"

The wandering hands slowly came to a stop above his still bruised stomach and hovered there, waiting. "Does it still hurt, Draco?" she whispered in mock concern. "From where you daddy _hit you_?" She accentuated these words by clawing her hand, digging it into the place Draco knew she knew a bruise resided. He cried out, it hurt, and then:

"A rather unimpressive midsection, I expected you to at least be well-muscled…" his aunt sighed. A glance at Draco's still half-full plate, and then: "You're not thinking of eating all _that_, are you? You'll get quite fat, dear Draco, and where would be the fun in tormenting you then?" Bellatrix smiled, a manic gleam in her heavily-lidded eyes.

Just then, Narcissa walked in. Bellatrix casually took a step back, leaving Draco pale and trembling. "Your dinner, Bella" Narcissa announced. "Alright Draco, eat up, dear – Draco? Oh sweetie, you look ill!" A hand pressed to his clammy skin. "Are you feeling alright?"

His aunt's words echoed through his mind. _Are you excited to receive the Dark Mark?... A rather unimpressive midsection…You'll get quite fat, dear Draco... _He shook his head. "I do feel rather ill, mother. I think I'll go rest" he mumbled.

"All right dear, I'll send up some tea, and let your guests know that you're not feeling well" Narcissa said, concerned. "Get some rest, Draco."

Draco nodded mutely, heading for the staircase. And though he kept his gaze trained on the ground during the course of his retreat, he could feel his aunt's stare on the back of his head the whole time, laughing at him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Treading Water:** Chapter 2

Draco ran as soon as he was out of his aunt's line of sight.

He ran the entire way back up to his room, up three sweeping flights of marble stairs, speeding down five hallways, flying around seven corners, finally arriving, sweaty and out of breath. He threw open the door and flung it shut behind him, finally slowing to a walk as he collapsed on his bed. He lay on his back, heart pounding so hard Draco thought it might kill him with the force of its contractions. He closed his eyes, attempted to calm his breaths… but they would not slow. _Why am I scared? _Draco wondered, shaking. A strange heavy feeling seemed to crush his chest with every breath. He gasped for breath, sudden tears somehow spilling down his cheeks. He laughed derisively_. What a pansy, crying in my room alone like a girl. Father would have a conniption if he saw me like this. _

He calmed down, eventually. In the time it took for his breathing to return to normal, a house elf appreared with a tray of tea and honey and left; Draco did not bother to hide his still obviously tear-streaked face from the servant - Draco knew it wouldn't say anything.

He wiped his eyes viciously and stood up, trying to forget his aunt's words.

_You'll get quite fat, dear Draco, and where would be the fun in torturing you then? _

"Why did that bother me so much?" Draco wondered aloud. "I'm not... _fat._" But even he could hear the doubt in his own voice.

Slowly, almost painfully so, Draco walked up to the floor-to-ceiling mirror that dominated the wall space across from his bed. He stared at his reflection, at the pale skin and the pointed features and the white-blonde hair that needed to be cut. He looked at his body, but his clothes were too loose to see clearly. With trembling fingers he undid the tie and shirt buttons that he had done up so deftly half an hour earlier. Draco slid his shirt off and looked at his chest, at the pale expanse of skin. _How... how did I not see this earlier? I'm..._

_... I'm disgusting. _

Somehow, his stomach protruded much more than he had thought it did. What he had thought were nicely toned arms now look unforgivably flabby. _How did this happen?_ Draco thought, appalled, trailing his hands incredulously across his chest, arms, stomach, feeling the fat that sat, unmoving, just under his skin. He quickly shed his trousers and socks and analyzed the horrendous masses of flesh that were his thighs. _Merlin_, he thought, feeling his eyes start to pick again. But this time, he forcefully suppressed the tears. There was no need to cry. _I just have to get thinner, that's all. I'll just eat less. _Draco thought briefly of the mound of food he had left at dinner, and was immensely thankful that his aunt had scared him from eating it.

Now that he had a plan, a way to make things better, Draco felt relieved, and more relaxed than he had been in over a month. He had found a way to make a part of his situation better, and now he knew what he had to do. "It's simple, really" he said, reassuring himself. _I'll look better in no time. _

And with that comforting thought, he returned to his bed and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N – Sorry for the long wait guys, I had the most horrible case of writer's block. I'll try to get the next few chapters out faster, since now I know where I want to go with this. :) Also, Teddy Nott makes an appearance in this chapter. His character's not really expanded upon by the wonderful JKR, so I took the artistic liberty of kind of developing his character myself – if you could tell me how you liked/disliked him, that'd be really cool, since I've never really created my own character before. :D And finally, thank you so much to my reviewers! You guys are the best. *HUG*

**Treading Water: **Chapter 3

Much to Draco's chagrin, losing weight was not as easy as he'd originally thought it would be.

He had initially planned to simply eat less than he normally did – to cut back, eating healthy meals instead of the heaps and heaps of food he usually consumed. But he soon noticed that this was going no where. "How is this possible?" Draco growled, standing in front of his mirror once again, two days after he had started his dieting. He viciously grabbed at his arms, disgusted at how far he was able to pull his skin. Viciously, he struck out at his bedroom wall and then sat down heavily on his bed, nursing his now aching hand. "This is going nowhere," he muttered to himself. "I have to look at this logically…"

Gazing intently at himself through the mirror, Draco reviewed everything he knew about food. _People eat food to live. Without food, a person would starve. Food provides the energy needed to function on a day-to-day basis. Different types of food provide different types of energy in the forms of proteins, carbohydrates, vitamins, minerals… fats. _Draco sighed and rolled over, turning his gaze to the high ceiling. _This energy is measured in calories. As a person goes about their day, they burn a specific amount of calories, and this amount of calories should equal a person's food intake. _Draco closed his eyes, thinking harder. _If a person eats more calories than the amount they burn – _Draco scowled – _they will gain weight in the form of fat. But if a person eats _less _than what they burn, they will lose weight. _Draco sighed. "But that's what I've been doing, eating less, and I haven't been losing weight nearly as fast as I have to! Merlin, this is difficult" he moaned. He stood up, looking at himself again. "… I supposes… I have to eat even less…" Almost unbidden, his hands traveled to his torso, pinching, pulling at his skin. A thought struck him then, a solution to his problem – one so simple that he really should have thought of it sooner. "What if I… don't eat _anything_?" The more he thought about it, the more attractive this proposal became. "If I have a calorie intake of zero, then I'll be sure to burn more than I eat every day – I'll become thinner much faster." Draco took one last look at himself before turning away decisively and redressing. _Yes, this will work. I'm positive this time. _

* * *

><p>Soon, as days often do in the summer, the week had gone by. Draco found his birthday drawing nearer and nearer, and never before had he dreaded a day so much in his life. His initiation as a Death Eater loomed over him, drawing closer and closer with frightening speed. He was terrified, but worse than the fear was having to pretend to look forward to his branding. His father and Aunt were horribly excited, though Lucius was more eager to see the Malfoy name restored to honor, while Bellatrix was mostly delighted at the flash of fear she saw in his pale eyes whenever his birthday was mentioned.<p>

Only Narcissa seemed as worried as Draco was, though she hid it well. And strangely enough, Draco found this quite helpful. Narcissa had taken to retiring early, before dinner had even been served, which gave Draco the opportunity to hastily scrape his food into the rubbish disposal. Though he was now in an almost constant state of dread, he would occasionally reflect proudly upon the fact that he had eaten only a single slice of toast and an apple in five days. And though he wasn't anywhere close to being fit again, he was able to feel the hunger knawing at his stomach and think with a small smile, _It's a good start. _

So. His birthday was tomorrow. Draco spent the whole day wandering the mansion, desperately searching for anything that would distract him from what was coming. And surprisingly, his mother was the one who provided just that when, halfway through the day, she approached Draco where he sat reading in the mansion's small library and told him that she had re-invited his guests from the other night, and that they would be there within the hour. _It's funny_, Draco thought weakly, _how much I don't mind seeing them now. _

And sure enough, less than sixty minutes later the marble living room fireplace was roaring to life with noxious green flames and spitting Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini into Malfoy Manor.

True to her reputation, as soon as Pansy stopped spinning she propelled herself into Draco's less-than-eager arms, squealing, "Ooh, Draco, I've missed you so much!" and knocking the air out of Draco's lungs. _Oh dear Merlin, here we go_, he groaned mentally. Pansy looked up at him, her pug-like face lighting up as she spoke. "Our family's vacation to Fiji was quite luxurious, I assure you, but I couldn't help thinking of you and missing you the whole time I was away from you!" Here she tightened her grip, and Draco was sure he would never be able to breathe again. She let go then, taking a breath to preen herself, smoothing her nauseatingly fragrant hair, and was about to continue her silliness when she was slammed into by an incoming Blaise Zabini.

Scowling, the tall dark boy glared down at the silly girl. "Watch it, Parkinson, you were in my way."

An enraged Pansy opened her mouth to spew some vicious comeback at the person who had interrupted her alone-time with Draco, but before she could Draco wearily intervened.

"Honestly, you should both have better manners when you've been invited to our manor," Draco drawled acerbically. "What are you, children?" He sneered.

Pansy immediately attempted to redeem herself, spewing some nonsense about how she was sorry, she was just so excited to see him that she forgot herself. Zabini, who obviously did not think much of Draco, darkly – and reluctantly – muttered an apology. Draco sighed. "Since Nott's decided to make us wait for his arrival, I don't see why we should wait for him to start on refreshments." He looked disdainfully at the two of them. "Do either of you want anything?"

Completely oblivious to the waves of dislike radiating from the blonde, she simpered, "Some tea would be _wonderful_, thanks!" Draco turned to Zabini, eyebrows raised. "I'll have tea too, thanks," he answered coldly.

"Fine," Draco muttered. He had secretly hoped that neither would want anything – it would be weird to not have tea while his two guests had some. _It's not that bad, _Draco tried to convince himself. _At least tea doesn't have any caloric value. It's just flavored water. It's fine._

In less than a minute, a house elf had appeared and set a tray of tea and biscuits on a round table in the parlor, conjured up three high-backed chairs to set around it, and bowed itself out of the room. The three Slytherins sat down, Pansy immediately taking control of the tea kettle and pouring each of them a cup, smiling at Draco as she handed him his and glaring at Blaise as she shoved his cup toward him. Both boys rolled their eyes.

"So, Draco," Pansy said between delicate sips of tea, "what have you been up to this summer so far?" She placed a hand on his arm, and Draco had to use all his self-control not to shove it off. "I bet you've been up to some interesting things! Tell us _all _about it." She giggled.

Draco scowled. _Well, whore, since you asked, this summer my father's been in prison, I've discovered that I'm horribly overweight, have unsuccessfully attempted to avoid my psychotic Aunt, and I'm becoming a Death Eater tomorrow, yes, it's been terribly fun! _But of course, he answered: "Parkinson, not all of us like the world to know every single detail of our personal lives." Blaise smirked at this, and Draco continued, "I'll leave my exciting summer up to your imagination." Properly chastised, Pansy blushed and fell silent.

Unexpectedly, a reedy voice said: "I can definitely imagine what your _exciting _summer has been like." The three seated Slytherins nearly jumped out of their skins and turned, startled, to where the voice had come from. Theodore Nott stood in the doorway, smiling apologetically. "Sorry I scared you three, I should have announced myself first."

His heart still pounding, Draco narrowed his eyes and said sharply, "What are you insinuating, Nott?"

Calmly, Nott pulled up a fourth chair and wedged it between Pansy's and Blaise's, so that he was directly across from Draco. "I'm not really _insinuating_, per se, I'm just making an educated guess."

"Spit it out Theodore, we're not exactly a patient bunch" Blaise said, eyes narrowing curiously.

Nott smiled thinly. "Well, let's see if I'm right then, shall we?"

Without warning, Nott lunged across the table, grabbing Draco's left arm in a vice-like grip and pulling the sleeve up. The pale, unblemished skin of Draco's forearm almost glowed in the room's soft lighting. For a moment, everyone was too shocked to react in any way… but this passivity did not last long. A second later Draco stood up, yanked his arm away and punched Nott across the face so hard that the weedy teen was sent sprawling. "What the hell are you playing at?" Draco yelled. Pansy and Blaise sat still, wide-eyed. Nott pushed himself off the floor, wiping at his bloody mouth, smiling apologetically – or as well as he could, with a split lip. "Wow, Draco, your fist sure is boney!" Nott said weakly, poking at his lip. "But sorry about that, I was sure you'd been initiated already." He shrugged casually.

"Wh… WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Pansy yelled, her dark eyes flashing as she grabbed Draco's shoulder protectively. "You don't just go around pulling up people's sleeves to see if they're working for the Dark Lord!" Pansy spat, "And if you do, you _definitely_ don't act so casual afterwards!"

Blaise's brows were furrowed. "That was definitely out of line, Theodore. You don't joke about things like that."

Nott scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm sorry." He turned to Draco. "I'm sorry, really, I am. I was just so sure… well, it doesn't matter. I guess you haven't been."

Draco shocked them all by smiling slightly, the motion not quite meeting his eyes. He looked off to the right, at the Malfoy coat of arms that hung on the wall. _Toujours Pur _– always pure_._

"Not yet," he whispered.


End file.
